Chronicle of Ivy: A Hunger Games Experience
by Smolchild13yrsold
Summary: A Hunger Games Sidestory. A Creative Writing school project with the Hunger Games, Based on a true story; in homage to Chrys.


**Chronicles of Ivy**  
A Hunger Games Experience

**Authors:** Ali,A. Malezai, H. Vesterlund, E. Duong, C-M.

**Character list:**

Main lead - Ivy Knox

Main Lead - Roger Taht

Supporting - George Taht (Mayor)

Supporting - Mr. & Mrs. Johnsons

Supporting - Ralph (Peacekeeper)

Supporting - Mr. & Mrs. Knox (Ivy's parents)

Supporting - 5 Knox siblings

**District 11 **

I don't think my legs can keep up anymore, and neither can I breathe. I must catch my breath. I stopped to catch as much breath as possible, but not for too long. The other Districts is getting closer, and my silence is the key for survival. My legs are wobbling, my body sweating like never before.

Staying off the plain fields is my only plan for now. Out of sight, adjusting to the environment. But I can't stay here much longer, they will find me sooner or later. I've been chased for hours in the woods now. But somehow, the other Districts still manage to keep up. The Hunger Games will be the last of me, it's either kill or be killed, now or never. There is no in-between, and I have no choice.

The thoughts of getting elected to The Hunger Games never occurred to me. I won't let The Capitol project my life as some sort of entertainment. I am Ivy Knox, I am Strong, I will prevail. That is who I am, and I will not go down without a fight. The thought of survival has always been there for me since childhood. I found myself stumbling in these woods. The trees here are as thick as the one back home, if there is something I know, then it is hiding from The Capitol swine. It feels like I have been walking around in a maze now. I think that I circulated in a maze, no matter where I go, it all looks the same. A clutter of trees.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps is getting closer. My conscious is widening, my senses feel heightened. My thoughts tell me to run, but my body says fight. Where did the sound come from? The knives feel heavier than earlier, I'll just have to hold it high to protect myself. There is a chirping sound coming from the left, and never have I seen a bird in here though. As I turn to the left, I also feel a painful sensation in my left eye.

"_What is stuck in my eye" _I muttered.

I felt a warm feeling running down my face. I slowly, but faintly, touch my face. Blood, I saw on my meager fingers. My legs can't keep my body up anymore, and I collapse to the ground. Pity, I thought to myself. Laying here like a martyr of District 11, weak and frail. The soil is just as warm like back home. Where I belong. The footsteps came closer, and closer. All I could see with my right eye is a pair of black boots. Someone is pulling my body over, exposing my face. My breath is limited, and the slow pulse is the only thing I can hear.

"_How unfortunate"_ the person says.

"_But I'm going to need that arrow back_." The person continues, as I felt the arrow getting pulled out of my left eye socket. Everything is slowly getting darker. Am I dying? I questioned myself.

I felt an excruciating pinch in my chest as I lift my body up. My heart beats are abnormally high, and I'm awfully sweaty. Sweating through my clothes. My left hand is shaky. But I lift it to see if the arrow is still in my eye. No arrow. But my eye socket is still empty, at least my right eye is still there.

**Shackles**

Never have I ever had such a realistic dream. I could almost swear it truly happened.

The sun is getting up. My precious siblings are still snoring. I could see the sunrise coming up as my sleeping position is closest to the window. The perks of being the oldest child, you get to set the rules, no matter how big or small rules.

Everyday approximately during this time, my family gets up to work in the corn fields. The rations are getting lower every month. Even though, the harvesting is increasing annually.

Yet, the mayor boldly claims, that the harvest hasn't increased at all, and that we aren't working hard enough.

_We, the working people, the community, know for a fact that The Mayor is a lying garbage. Because we are the one that have to slave for a fraction of the harvest._ I ponder.

There is a knocking on the hollow bathroom door.

"_Ivy are you coming out soon, breakfast time"_ my mom questions.

"_Stop stalling!"_ One of my siblings yells.

"_Coming", _I answer with a raised voice.

Every morning is the same, stalling, because every day feels like a repeating nightmare. I kept looking at myself on the tinted mirror on the sink. I take a deep look at my left eye socket. Things have not looked the same since the accident on the field. Neither does my face. Every year that goes by, my face looks more like mother's. The green eyes, and the brown hair. The only big difference is my skin tone, like a mixture of dark brown and light brown, mixed into a smooth middle brown colour. Middle brown. I can't even identify the colour name, maybe I should have listened more in school. But what is it worth here in District 11.

Besides, all the Capitol peacekeepers identify us as an object. Afro-Latina it says on my papers. Might as well just call us slaves. Because that is what we are to them. Slaves, primitive beings. On the topic of nightmares. I could have sworn that I got hit by an arrow in the eye. It felt so real.

"_Come on out Ivy!"_ another one of the siblings urgently screams.

"_I can't hold it much longer!" _he loudly screams and repeatedly knocks on the hollow door.

As I walked out of the bathroom door, my brother rushes in. I made my way to the kitchen, where dad had been waiting. The kitchen is old and dusty. But it is just like any home in the District. I still remember some of my childhood memories of me, and my mom making bread. Bread that can only be made here. That is how we sustained on the trade. After all, we got the best corn meal. District 11 is the only agricultural District with rich soils, because of our climate. I was told that the other Districts suffer in one way or another. Luckily, we got the scolding hot weather. A blessing and a curse at the same time. The heat can be punishing, and at the same time beloved, depending on whether you're out in the field or relaxing at home.

"_Ready to head out Ivy_?" dad asks while scratching his bald head.

"_Yeah, I will take them to school first" _I responded.

"_I'll catch you in the field later_" I say.

"_Alright, but don't be too late again" _he responds with a firm looking face. "You know the drill, before the bell rings" dad says while pointing at me.

"_Otherwise they will reduce todays rations again" _dad continuous with determination, still pointing at me.

Dad always reminded me for that one time. He means it in a good way. After all, the siblings alone are 5 extra mouths to feed. They are not ready to work yet, but the manner dad usually says it makes me mad. Not at him. But at The Capitol.

"_Things aren't right dad"_ I answered angrily.

"_All that food is ours and ours only!" _I said while clenching my fist. If we are the one farming it, then it should belong to us, not them.

"_Quiet Ivy!"_ dad responds. _"No more bogus talk and I mean it!"_ dad continues. This is not the first time me and my dad argue about it.

"_Do you know what would happen if they catch you talking like that!"_ dad says.

Suddenly, his face turned from angry to sympathetic. He looks down. Not because he is angry at me, but more because he is worried about me. Everyone knows that the punishment for talking foul against the system is fatal. I know he does it because he cares. We have seen so many getting punished for violating the law set by the tyrants.

"_Affirmative dad" _I said. Dad knows that I'm right. But it doesn't change the current circumstances. He still looks down.

I assisted the smaller ones getting their boots on. Boots that have been passed down through generations. They were once mine too, and I treated them without care. So now, my younger siblings have to suffer with the holes in them. Although, they are most likely fixable.

We strolled down the town on our way to school. The town still looks dusty, and grey like always. Concrete wall after another. Colours aren't affordable anyway, because if it doesn't serve any function, then it doesn't make sense. It's all about status in this town. There are only a few painted buildings around here. That is how we identify those whom are valuable to The Mayor, and those who are not. Besides the painted houses, the only thing with different colours here are our skin. It is said in school that District 11 has the most diverse skin colours, out of all the districts. What is the point in school anyway?

_No dreams can come from District 11, and sooner or later, the kids have to realize that._ I think.

Looking down at my brothers, while holding their hands, I realize that I don't want to break their dreams. Eventually, they will acknowledge that themselves. In due time. They seem happy with a smile on their faces, especially when food comes to the table. As we arrive at the school, I always kiss them farewell on their beloved forehead. Any day could be my last day on the field. It is always a matter of life and death out there. The rations are low, starvation shows its omnipresent, and passing out from dehydration is casual. But now is not the time to think about that.

"_Behave yourself!" _I say.

"_Always"_ they responded simultaneously.

The fields are hotter than ever. It is just a thing to get used too. The field is filled with endless corn. As long as the distance our eyes can see, all of the green and yellow tone of it. I can feel the burning soil on my feet, it was just as hot as the ground I felt in my nightmare. Hopefully, I can get my mind out of it. It's just a dream like any.

The presence of the peacekeepers is more frequent now, ever since the last revolt. If they catch you slipping, then you are prone to be harassed or hit. That's why I can't be bothered to think of anyone other than myself out here, I have myself to take care of first. The scars on my body is a constant reminder of that. I carry the scars as a symbol or a badge of honor, reminding myself that I stole that food once, to preserve myself of starvation. My stomach couldn't refrain itself from starvation anymore. I was about to die that time. The consequences of my actions were worth it, and the Peacekeepers showed no mercy flogging me. A child. The hatred will always be there. I never forget, and I never forgive.

It is common to sing the blues of the old time out in the field, songs before The Capitol took over. The blues of old times keep the moral, and attention up, making the day feel faster. The Peacekeepers no longer refrain our people from doing so.

During the earlier years after The Capitol took over, there was a massive, and deadly incident that occurred for trying to suppress the singing. It is still remembered by those standing up for our culture. The songs are secretly a homage to those who lost their lives in the field. Although, the Peacekeepers are too narrow minded to understand that, never will they ever know that.

A Sudden scream was heard all over the fields. From knowing everyone in District 11, without a doubt, that was Mrs. Johnson's voice. The crowd, and I, ran closer towards the frequent screams. The peacekeeper was hitting Mr. Johnson with his mace. Mr. Johnson was laying on top of Mrs. Johnson protecting her from getting bashed.

"_Stop, Please, Mercy!" _Mr. Johnson screams in agony.

"_Disgusting rats"_ The Peacekeeper yells.

There was no stop to the hitting, again and again, pound after pound, Mr and Mrs Johnson kept bleeding more, and more. No one stepped in to stop them. Everyone was smart enough to not get themselves involved. From nowhere a Peacekeeper pulls the malicious Peacekeeper away from Mr. and Mrs. Johnson.

"_Have you gone insane man?"_ the angry Peacekeeper says throwing the newly arrived Peacekeeper hands off him.

"_It is me Ralph, Roger!"_ the new peacekeeper says. He seemed worried by the way his body language is presenting, his hand somewhat shows that he is in question, with his palms facing up.

"_Why did you stop me!"_ the angry Peacekeeper responds. For a second I thought this new Peacekeeper may be sympathetic, but I was wrong.

"_Listen to me" _the new Peacekeeper says. "Less people working, less corn harvested" he continued with a reasonable voice.

"_Load them up on the truck to medic"_ the new Peacekeeper calmly says. _"It's an order!"_ he loudly says.

It is obvious that he disagreed with the received order. He walked away in an obnoxious manner. But also, on the way he threw Mr. and Mrs. Johnson up on the truck. Like they were useless garbage. Like objects.

They drove away rapidly, the ungripped wheels spread soil all over the place. It was omniscient that the newly arrived Peacekeeper was of higher status. It is even rumored that the new Peacekeeper is the son of the Mayor. There is no way a Mayor's son would choose this path. But rumors are just speculations after all.

"_Back to work everyone!"_ he screams. _"Nothing to see here" _he says.

The people looked at him with hatred and distaste on their face. Everything here is to be seen, as an example of their evilness, and greed. People turned around, walked slowly and went back to their working positions. The day has yet to begin, and there is no time to jeopardize the daily ration. That is the way of life right now. We all continued where we left off on the blues, as an additional homage to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson until sunset.

Back home things looked the same as every day. I always helped my mom with the food preparations. By the years going by, my mother's condition worsens, sometimes her persona shifts out of nowhere. There were times she didn't even remember us and hysterically tried to defend herself, thinking that we were going to hurt her. The doctor couldn't even identify it, he even said that there isn't any term for it. Here in District 11, you are either sick or not, that is how it is.

It is said that my grandma had the same disorder. Dad mentioned everything was fine until she got older, and it got worse. One unfortunate day, her disorder overcame her, she shifted and randomly attacked people on the street. The previous Mayor ordered her to get a public flog as a punishment, but not everyone makes it through, at least not grandma. Hopefully, I didn't inherit the disorder from mother. However, I wouldn't be lying if I said that I'm not scared. Because I do look like her in so many ways. Meaning that I got most of my genes from her, possibly even the disorder. If not me, what about my siblings?

I put the pot of oat porridge from the daily ration on the table. We always use up all the food ration. That is how The Mayor keeps us in control. By limiting the food, enough for only one meal, is their key to make us go to work daily with no breaks. No work, no food, equals to death by starvation.

Before every supper, the whole family holds each others hand, thanking the Lord for our protection, and lives. But if there is a God, why is he so cruel to punish us in this way?

My answer is that there is no God, or he abandoned us, no God of mine would forsake us to this life. Blasphemous.

After food we all go up, preparing to sleep. Every night dad passes our little and cramped room to check on us. To see that we are well and sleeping. It always smells so bad because of all the black mold on the wall, but we are all used to it. I pretend to sleep every night, with my face turned towards the window, so that dad can't see my eyes are wide open.

As the household turns quiet, usually I know when my dads start snoring, I sneak out to the back garden. I take my steps slowly as our wooden floor is basically all pale and damaged, a creak on the floor, and my dad will get hostile. No one wants a burglar in their houses anyway and people are getting more desperate every day. Desperate times, usually, require for desperate measures. But by now, I have mastered to sneak out flawlessly.

In the garden, I use my hands to dig. I have marked my designated spots with rocks I collected. In which only I can identify. I have been collecting rocks ever since I was a kid, it is the most precious activity I have possessed through interest. Although, it is not the only interest I have developed. My hands can feel the object beneath the soil now as I dig. As my hands dig through, it is time to pull out the carafe out of the ground. I decide to remove the lid, pungent, and fermented smells come through the bottle, like a straight punch to the nose. This is how you know that the moonshine is ready. Everything for the ingredients are available for us here in District 11. Corn mash, yeast, sugar, and water. Four simple ingredients, yet effective.

Now that the moonshine is ready, filtration is all that is left. I'm focusing on straining out all the ingredients through the cheesecloth, unto my cup. It is the messiest part of it all. And I sit back, leaned against the wall, enjoying my drink. I can feel the breeze running through my hair, not too cold, but a slight fresh feeling.

I'm looking up to the bright shining moon, wondering if there is a better life out there in the world. Nevertheless, on the moon. The effects of intoxication are rushing through my body now, I feel it tingling down to my toes. Dizzy. My mind wanders away from the fact that I must work by sunrise, but also the horrible dreams of yesterday. I sneaked my way back in slowly and laid down. In my right hand, I hold my favorite rock, a grey rock with the texture of what I imagined was just like the moon. I squeeze it hard in my hand and hope my dream will be better for today.

Back in the blazing hot field, I can see that Mr. and Mrs. Johnson are back. Bruised up like a peach, all swelled up, but at least alive. Everyone is chanting the blues, moral is up, and I'm pushing the cart today. Even though my focus is high, I can't stop thinking about Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. I must focus on myself, getting through the day. Besides, I must help mom to sell all the bread tomorrow.

"_Focus."_ I thought.

As my eyes glance towards Mrs. Johnson, while passing by. I can see the Peacekeepers steadily walking towards Mrs. Johnson.

"_Please don't let it be another altercation. It's bad enough already._ I thought to myself.

You could see it from a mile away, by the way the Peacekeeper walks, that this was going to be trouble. Real trouble.

"_Hey lady! Didn't I tell you to shut up last time?"_ The Peacekeeper say. It was the very same Peacekeeper from last time. Knowing from what he told her.

"_Please! I don't want any trouble sir. I'll be quiet."_ Mrs. Johnson says.

"_Trouble? Your face looks like trouble. Rat"_, The Peacekeeper responds, with a grin on his face.  
_"Haven't you had enough of beating yet?", _The Peacekeeper continued, moving his face close to Mrs. Johnson's face.

Suddenly, out of nowhere. He strikes her again with his mace. Like she wasn't hurt already, and now he had to beat her again. Unprovoked and ruthlessly. I can't hold my anger in anymore, my hatred is bubbling, and my blood is boiling. It's like the time they punished me. Looking down my arms, I see my scars, and my fist clenches, my teeth are gritting. I'm losing focus, I can't contain my anger inside anymore, my sights are fading. It is getting darker.

**Prison break**

The last thing I saw was the glistening moon that I loved so much. I found myself surrounded by the iridescent sheen, floating like I was in space. I liked it better here. I felt lighter, like all the responsibilities and hardships were lifted from my shoulders. That was until I was awaken by a loud sound, like a dungeon cage being slammed. I open my eyes to a dark ceiling. There has been food left by the door of what looked to me like a prison cell.

I didn't know where I was and when I was brought to this dark room with nothing in it, but I saw no way out. I left the food untouched, the people who come out of jail once they were arrested are never the same. Whether or not the food played a part in that, I had no idea, but I was not taking any chances. Day by day, they would bring me food that I refused to eat. At this point they had given up on me and stopped giving me food. The same old brown oatmeal looking concoction was not exactly tempting either. If not from the food I would become weak from starvation, but that would at least not change me.

Several days later, when they usually come to check up on me, I noticed that the guard has not properly locked the door. "_Is this my chance,"_ I thought. I need to get out of here, but barely have the strength to plan a prison break. If they spot me leaving it might just be the end for me. It was suspicious, however, they can't be that careless, can they?

I opened the door to my cell and peeked out, to my surprise, there was not a single soul down the entire corridor. I thought to myself that it could be a trap, but I had nothing to lose at this point. I made my way through the open door and looked desperately for a way out. I didn't make a sound; I cannot afford taking any chances in this situation. I had to move fast. The long corridor had no place to hide, the only perk was that it was dark. I ran swiftly without making a sound until I saw an opening. I spotted a light and headed that way, but as I headed closer, I could hear voices. It was two guards. I hid next to the opening, waiting for them to leave.

"_Psst!"_ the unknown person he hissed.

I was so focused on not getting caught that every little sound made me jump. I couldn't see clearly so I looked in the direction that the sound was coming from. There I spotted a little window in a high up place. It seems that we were in a basement. There was a boy dressed up as a guard there signaling to come his way. I didn't know what to do, who to trust. All I heard was the guards coming closer and without thinking I headed towards the window. This was probably my only chance if it turned out he was of help. I had to take this chance. I ran towards the window and tried to open it wide enough for me to get through. I tugged at it as hard as I could, it was a bit tough to open. Once I finally got it to open it made a big sound attracting attention from the guards that had just come in.

They yelled "_Hey!"_.

The boy reached out his hand and I grabbed it. He didn't seem to have a hard time pulling me up, but I stressed out making it a little harder than it needed to be. The guards were running our way how could I stay composed. I was finally out of the basement, right before they had the chance to catch me.

We ran as fast as we could run. Having starved for several days. however, it was starting to take its toll on my body. He was still holding my hand so he could feel that I was lagging behind. He stopped and bent down as if to say that he'd give me a piggy-back ride. No way am I getting on his back.

"_Get on!"_ He said. "_We've lost sight of them, but they could've sent a signal out."_ He yells.

What is his motive, why is he helping me out? I quickly got on his back after a sound I heard rustling in the bushes made me jump.

**Hideout**

He seemed to know his way around this place, which made it a quick journey out of the prison territory. He led me out through a dog hole into the middle of a forest, with tall trees and swamps covered in lotus leaves. This was no place familiar to me. As a pawn only ever working for the Capitol, I had little chance to explore my own district. It was different here compared to the open field of corn that we're used to. Where we are day in, and day out worked to the bone.

I realize that I am still on his back and nudge him off.

"_Who are you and why did you help me?"_ I ask while I dust myself off.

I look up and lock eyes with him. His blue eyes lure me in, that eye colour is not very common around here. He has curly hair the colour of a lion's mane, and is quite a bit taller than I am. Somehow he looked familiar to me. I shake my head and try to snap out of it

"Where did you bring me?" I ask anxiously. I wouldn't be able to find my way back home from here alone.

"_A thank you would be nice,"_ he muttered under his breath.

"_Don't worry I'll take you back eventually but they'd be looking for you right now so that wouldn't be a good idea, besides, you need some food and rest."_

" _He may be right but how can I be sure this isn't a trap. "Where would we find food and shelter here, and wait, you didn't even answer my first questions,"_ I said.

"_Don't worry and just follow me." _He pulls my arm and I immediately pull away from his grip _"Follow me,"_ he said in a gentle voice.

The ground is damp and muddy, so it feels like every step I take I am sinking. We finally reach what looks like a tree house with steps leading up towards it between the split tree trunk. We went up those molding wooden steps and went inside to a room that looked like a good hiding place during a war or an apocalypse.

"_Here,"_ he said, as he gave me a large piece of bread that he took out of a storage box. It was a little stale but edible. I tried looking at him while I took a bite just to find him staring intently at me. I looked to the floor immediately. His gaze was piercing, it felt cold, like the colour of his got up in order to lay down a mattress with pillows and a blanket.

"_You can sleep there tonight,"_ he said. He turned on a lantern as it was getting darker in that deserted treehouse.

"_How long do I need to be here,"_ I ask, the treehouse looked scarier the darker it got.

"_Not too long hopefully, I'll go into town every now and then to see if the talk of a runaway prisoner dies down." "That sounds like I'm going to be here for a long time, those damn peacekeepers will be looking endlessly…till my corpse is found." _He looks uncomfortable all of a sudden, he must know that there is truth in what I say.

"_You have yet to tell me who you are,"_ I said while frowning at him.

"_I'm Roger,"_ he says.

"_I don't remember that being the only question I asked you,"_ I said squinting my eyes at him.

"_I'm 20? What more is there to say?"_ he says.

Does he not know the position I'm in? I can not trust just anybody.

"_Maybe the reason why you helped me?"_ He blushed as soon as I said that.

"_No reason! I just saw how things turned out and decided to help."_ He said while avoiding eye-contact with me.

"_Are you part of some rebellion?"_ I say. I didn't know what to think at this point.

"_Yeah sure, I'm going to risk that!"_ he said in a joking manner.

"_You should probably go to sleep, I can imagine you got no rest in there.","Are you going to leave me her alone?" _the longer I was here the more scared I was feeling and every time a mosquito flew by, I flinched. In this unfamiliar place, with a person whose intentions I had no idea about, those little sounds that I would otherwise have no problem with made me jump.

"_Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere,"_ somehow that gave me a sense of relief. I couldn't help but wonder why he was helping me? It feels odd being taken care of. I'm used to being a motherly figure to my younger siblings, especially since my mother's health started deteriorating. I wonder if my family is worried about me?

**The Truth**

I woke up to chirping birds and crickets. It smelt like it had just rained that night, but I was in too deep of a sleep to notice. I looked around anxiously, just to find that there was no one there. I quickly got up and looked around the little house. My last resort was to leave and check outside. As soon as I opened the door, I bumped into Roger head on and fell to the ground.

"_Are you okay?!"_ he said as he ran towards me to check on me. I grabbed onto him and just stared. I let go just as fast.

"_I'm fine!" _I said embarrassed. I don't know what had gotten into me. When had I become so dependent?

"_Where did you go?"_ I asked.

"_I went to get food, it's quite a distance to town so I left early."_ he said with a smirk. I can't believe that just happened, what is this feeling?

"Did you sleep well?" he said with a smile still on his face while he took out the food he bought. I just kept my mouth shut which seemed to make things more amusing to him. He handed me a corn on the cob, I only ever see these when were farming. Only peacekeepers can afford this. That's when the familiarity I had when I first saw his face came rushing back.

"_Who are you really?" _I asked.

"_What do you mean?" _he said.

"_Have we met before?" _I couldn't quite pinpoint where I'd seen him.

"_I doubt you'd know who I am," _he tried to change the subject.

"_But you know who I am?" _I asked suspicious of his intentions.

"…" He had nothing to say.

"_You're one of those peacekeepers, aren't you?!"_ At that point I was already headed towards the door.

"_Where are you going?" _he said while pulling me away from the door.

"_Let go of me, I'm going home," _I screamed.

"_You can't leave, it's not safe out there for you," _he yelled just as loudly.

"_Well I'm not exactly safe here either," _my voice was cracking, I needed to get out of there before I let my emotions get the best of me.

"_Trust me, you are," _he said with his face reddening.

I couldn't stay there much longer. I left the treehouse without looking back. I didn't know where to, but wherever I was headed to I was better off there. I just kept on walking, to wherever my feet were taking me. For some reason it was getting muddier and harder to walk. Every step I took it was getting harder for me to lift my feet out of the mud. Eventually it took all my might to lift my feet. I started panicking, what do I do? I couldn't move. I tried calling out for help, but my voice wasn't coming out. Frustrated, I felt tears trickling down my cheek. I kept on sinking. At this point the mud was right under my knees.

"_Help!"_ I finally got something out, but I wasn't sure anyone would hear me. I tried pulling out one leg at a time. My hands got muddy and I ended up slipping trying to pull my leg. I fell on my butt in the mud. At this point I was panicking and crying for help. My vision was blurry, and I didn't know what to do. I couldn't remember much after that, but I heard someone calling my name and dragging me.

I slowly opened my eyes and I saw Roger above me. I was lying on his lap. I regained my consciousness and tried getting up.

"_Stay lying down, you're probably still in a state of shock,"_ I looked around a bit.

We were by a lake and the sun was setting. I let my guard down, I wonder how many more times I need to be saved by this person. My legs were no longer as muddy as I last remember them being. I guessed that he had washed my feet while I was unconscious.

"_Thank you,"_ I said quietly.

"_Do you trust me a little more now?" _I just looked away from him.

"_I'm sorry for misjudging you, but it's hard to trust each other considering we're from two different worlds."_ He just nodded.

The sun had set by now and I saw something glowing fly by.

"_What was that?"_ I said as I tried to get up and follow it with my gaze.

"_Can you move now? You should be able to see it if you get up."_ I was still a bit weak, so he helped me up and let me lean on him, to my surprise there were more glowing dots.

"_They're called fireflies, you can only see them here in the entire district."_ I had never seen anything as beautiful in my life, I almost forgot the situation I was in. I leaned on him and stared at the view.

It was getting darker, so we decided to go back to the treehouse before it was too dark to see. My shoes were lost in the mud I was stuck in earlier, so he gave me a piggyback ride all the way there.

"_I'll get you new shoes and clothes tomorrow morning,"_ he said. I leaned on his back.

"_Thank you,"_ I said with the little strength I had. We didn't talk much that night, but his presence was a little more reassuring now. I thought to myself that it was possible to trust him now, even just a little bit. I was still feeling exhausted, so when we arrived, I went straight to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty tree house again. I knew not to panic this time. He had already told me that he was going to go out and get shoes and clothes. I hadn't eaten since the day he saved me and I'm starting to feel the hunger. The food that he had brought yesterday was still there. There was corn and bread and some water. I ate the corn and savored the flavor. So this is what comes out of the fruits of our labour. We were really missing out. It made me remember my family. I have lost track of how long ago it was since I last saw them, they must be worried sick. Who's getting the kids ready for school? How's mom's health? I put down the food, this didn't feel right I couldn't stay here much longer. I need to leave.

**Playing With Fire**

While I'm going to pick up my stuff and leave for where I belong. I hear a sound. What is this sound I murmur to myself? I have not seen another soul since I have arrived here. I follow the sound and keep walking to where it leads me. I'm trying to run but my legs do not seem to cooperate, my body is still numb and tingly from the lack of sleep and food. I feel weak. As I get closer to the sound, it seems all of a sudden that two men are fighting. I try to move as quickly as possible, avoiding every rustling leaf or crunching twig. As I come closer it became clear that it is two figures arguing in the dark.

I hesitate and wonder for a second why I am heading towards the sound and not away from it. It was the same in the cornfields, or in any other section of the district for that matter, one would always seek out anything that broke the alienating routine. I was not more than a few meters away when it became clear to me whom I had in front of me. Silent as a mouse, I dive down behind a big rock, allowing only the top of my head to lean out. I could not believe my eyes. This unforgettable character I´d only seen on propaganda-posters. It was the mayor. The person next to him is his son Roger. For a moment I can't pay attention to the argumentation that takes place in front of me. Lips are moving but I only perceive a wheezing sound, filling up my ears.

_"Do you think you are the first person ever to be snared by one of these rats?!"_ The Mayors says. The son starred defiant back at his father. I am waiting for the blow. Too many times have I seen the same scenario in the fields. A worker who finally has had enough, who bets all he or she has on this one moment to stand up to the oppressor. Mostly with unspeakable painful consequences. Sometimes fatal.

_"This is what they do! Especially to someone like you. Do you even know who you are? You are my son, YOU ARE THE MAYOR'S SON! Don't you understand? You are nothing more than a brick in her game. and even if you were, why would you spend a second on someone who has no future? None of them do! It is not for them!" _The Mayor yells.

It is not like I have never questioned the fact that they see us of lower social status than bacteria. But it is somehow the nail in the coffin to hear the head of the district utter these words. After all, according to the propaganda, he lies sleepless over his fatherly responsibility to all the inhabitants of District 11.

_"Empty promises is all you are going to get, all in favor of her wicked disposition."_ The Mayor say.

"_This is how they manipulate us, why do we spend unspeakable amounts on our peacekeepers, doing their best to motivate them? Because they are incapable of governing their own lives"._ He continues.

I have heard enough, silently I turn around, sneaking back into the woods, then it happens. The steady ground under my feet vanish as I slip on a muddy stain, losing my balance and fall straight down a small hill, landing in a small stream with a splash. It doesn't take many seconds until I hear heavy running footsteps. I try to orientate myself, dizzy from the fall. As long as I run from the approaching noise, it must be the right way. The adrenaline is at an all-time high. The speed my malnourished legs are carrying me at leaves a smoke cloud behind me as I rush through the thick vegetation. I hear shouting and screaming behind me but I keep going. Like a flash from a clear sky, I remember how we used to trick one another, playing catch back in the District-slums: by doing something unexpected you would almost always confuse whoever was chasing you.

I take a chance. I spin around, heading back towards the screaming and rumbling footsteps. All of my senses are telling me that I am ready for the insane-asylum. But I keep going. Footsteps are just around the tree. I duck down. Just meters away from the nearest peacekeeper I throw myself on the ground rolling sideways, into the thicket while he keeps charging past me. If you have one chance to swallow your heart, this would be it!

A few minutes of catching my breath. Are they gone? Will there be a major search party checking every thicket in the area? Better get moving. Rushing. Can´t run the same direction I started, then I will catch up with my followers, cannot turn back either, there might be more of them coming. I head out one out of two remaining possible directions, God knows where it leads. These are unfamiliar grounds. Far from every brick and stone, I know in person back in camp.

Are they after me? Did anyone see me slipping away? I see sunbeams squeezing through the thick vegetation further ahead. Better get over there and try to get my bearings. The sun fondles my shattered body, bruised from the fall, frozen from the involuntary stream-dip, as I reach the clearing. I can feel my whole body shiver. Just as my nerves are cooling down, I hear something. Not a threatening sound. But a familiar one. Someone is crying. The same moment I see him, he sees me. The healing sensation from his warm hug is taking its toll on my psyche as the tears are streaming down my cheeks.

_"I thought I had lost you, I thought they got to you." _Roger says.

We were together again. Like salt and pepper. The unease we should have felt because of our current situation suddenly gets outmatched by the euphoric feeling of being together, safe and sound, apart from my aching body, taking a beating in the fall down the hill. He is telling me that one of his first patrol-routes with the peacekeepers led through this forest. He took me by my hand and led me to an even smaller clearing, tucked away behind a series of fallen trees. The leaves had blown towards the pile of wood, forming a natural wind shelter. Another smaller stream floated by.

I look down on the filthy rags I was wearing. I hesitate for a moment, taking off and washing my clothes in front of him? I might as well bite the bullet. It would make matters a lot worse to be seen around in clothes looking like someone who just had been through hell and back. Might as well get it over with. I turn my back to him, covering up my rear with a scarf. When I am done I meet his eyes. He looks like he just saw a ghost. It takes me a second, then I remember what my back looks like. It is obvious that it is the first time he is face to face with what a heavy flogger does to a 17-year-old's bare skin. I cover up quickly. I feel ashamed.

Why am I ashamed?! Blaming the victim, as usual, I remember thinking. Is he disgusted by me? Is this the proof he needs to back up what his father just said about me? That I am nothing but a lousy thief, well earned of every single lash I received. I meet his eyes. They do not show disgust, not even discomfort. But something more familiar, and utterly chilling. Pain. The same pain I saw in my mother when our eyes briefly met that day on the scaffold just before the 50th stroke that made me pass out.

He is taking a deep breath before looking into my eyes. Then he starts telling me about the days when I was out in the treehouse.

**The Fog in Roger's Mind Clears**

As I find myself sitting on my father's shoulders, navigating the streets, I look upon the people of District 11 with disgust. Dirty, angry, holes in their clothes, not trustworthy. I try to look for a sense of pity, but it is to no avail. My father always tells me not to look the people in the eyes, because then they might want something from me.

_"Look, my son, this is my jurisdiction. Am I proud of these 'people'? Not really. Do I enjoy the power? Certainly. Always remember never to give away something for free, and always expect people to want something in return from you if they offer you a favour." _The Mayor says.

My resentment for these traitors grows day by day. It is their fault they are poor and that The Capitol has all the wealth. It is their fault that they are now reduced to mere serfs, surviving on whatever they can harvest. It is their fault they are doomed to an existence of hardship and poverty. My parents always tell me we all cast our lots in life. This is based on your drive, your family background and your intelligence. The people of The Capitol are inherently better than the different Districts. If the people of Panem had not resorted to rebellion they would be better off. I guess that is just the nature of these people. It all becomes clear now, The Capitol inhabits the smartest, cleanest and most thriving people of Panem and the Districts are the absolute antithesis to the whole establishment that is The Capitol.

As he was a rookie in the field, he tagged along when the peacekeepers in his units performed their daily duties. He wondered about all the rumors about brutality and evilness from the peacekeepers' side. All he saw was people working, and peacekeepers sometimes assisting with the labour, such things as carrying rubble if the workforce were short-handed, delivering meals to the field or in other ways assisting the production of corn. One day, he had been in bed, suffering from a heavy cold, just as he was easing his cold through with some tea and honey, he heard something that made him choke on the warm beverage.

"_Now when the little prince is nice and comfy in bed, perhaps we could get back to our real duties out there, making these rats know the meaning of dedicated work. It has made me sick, treating these unreliable, manipulative little rats like they possess a value. But hey! Anything to not hurt our little sensitive prince's feelings"_

When the peacekeepers went out on patrol, shivering from his coldness, he snuck out and followed the patrol from a safe distance on their daily duties. What he saw was something very different from the days he had accompanied the unit. The sound of beatings, floggings, screams of agony and despair, was what filled his ears as he witnessed the peacekeepers showing their true colors.

…

I could understand where he was coming from, but at the same time it was difficult to digest considering the suffering people like myself had to go through, because of their ignorance. It seemed like he was one of the few that was not completely brainwashed by the Capitol. There was hope for him. What do we do now? I hear a noise that sounded like a gun being loaded. Before I could react Roger was already jumping towards me.

_Bang!_ After the sound of the gunshot, I could no longer hear anything. There was a thud and I felt something heavy land on my lap. I looked down and saw Roger laying on my lap. What happened? He just stared at me from there. I shook him.

"_What's wrong?!"_ I cried.

His lips started moving_. "I have always liked you" _he said while he gave a small smile.

I felt something wet on my hands. I lifted them and saw blood dripping from them. My eyes started welling up, and I let out a scream of horror. His eyes slowly closed and whatever presence of life that i felt from were slowly leaving. This is exactly what I feared. The Peacekeeper raises their guns toward me. My vision becomes dark now.


End file.
